Sounds of the Theater
by AnimationNut
Summary: There was a period of time where the sounds of his theater, the ones Buster loved dearly, disappeared and silence reigned. It took a while before the sounds returned, though not quite the same as before. As far as Buster was concerned these new sounds were much, much better.


**I do not own Sing.**

 **I love the Moon Theater family and Mike is hands-down my favourite character.**

 **Sounds of the Theater**

A long time ago, perhaps a little too long for Buster's liking, his theater was once filled with sweet, glorious sounds that made his heart swell with happiness. The music that once consumed the whole auditorium, melodies ranging from soothing to intense, dramatic crescendos. The soft _swish_ as the thick red velvet curtains were hoisted back and forth, the bottoms hovering just over the hardwood of his stage. The overlapping chatter of theater-goers as they crowded the seats, their conversations mixing into the same vibrating hum. But greatest of all were the emotional monologues, the passionate lyrics, the gripping stories that poured from the souls of the performers that graced his stage over the years.

For a while, he thought he would never hear these unique, heart-lifting sounds again. He had never understood the phrase 'silence is deafening' until he experienced it. The agonizing quiet of his theater as his audience was drawn to more modern forms of entertainment, as his shows became nonexistent as performers drifted further away from his area, preferring to play for big, professional companies than a locally-owned theater. As his funds diminished and his theater continued to remain empty, he held on to his optimism. He had a motto, after all. Once you hit rock bottom, there was no way to go but up.

To save his theater, to fill it with energy and life and noise once again, he came up with his second greatest idea ever (coming behind his decision to own a theater in the first place).

The singing competition brought him more than he ever bargained for. There were many setbacks, and he admittedly fell to despair for a brief period of time, but in the end it turned out way better than he could have ever dreamed.

The silence was gone. But while the familiar sounds that were so affixed to his memory had returned, there were new ones, ones that he had not expected, but was extremely grateful for.

The pumping salsa music emitting from the boom box as Gunter taught Rosita the dance, the mother of twenty-five piglets laughing at her partner's enthusiasm as his loud, booming voice nearly overcame the music as he spoke with her, not caring in the least that her form wasn't perfect but helping her stay loose and not so self-conscious.

What Buster could only describe as the roar of a guitar as Ash took the stage, fingers flying skillfully over her strings as the theater rocked. Her strong, powerful vocal cords keeping pace with her punk-style music, a dominating presence that could not be contained.

The crooning lyrics of Mike, who created a melody that always seemed to stop Buster in his tracks, watching as the small mouse sang with soul. He was a natural-born showman, and it showed in the way he handled himself on stage (and off, as a matter of fact).

The way Meena's voice would start off quiet when she sang, but grew more confident and stronger as she lost herself in the music, in the lyrics that meant the most to her. The vibrations that rumbled throughout the theater when she started to dance with the beat.

The sincere, passionate songs Johnny always tended to choose for his performances. The delicate piano notes that would ring clear and sweetly in succession as his fingers danced across the keys with as much determination as his singing held.

The constant bickering of Ash and Mike, her sarcasm battling his sneering mockery. The occasional sour piano key accompanied by Johnny's groan of despair and Ms. Crawly's blunt comments. Eddie's frantic muttering as he checked his clipboard to see if everything was set for the night's performances and Meena's soft-spoken assurances that everything was in order. Gunter's stories of his youth, which were sometimes bewildering but nonetheless greatly amusing. Rosita's humming as she bustled about, interjected with motherly reminders to wear their scarves when it was cold and to rest when they were sick, her calm interference when Ash and Mike got a little too out of hand. Meena's stammering when she got flustered and nervous, punctured by Mike's sharp reprimands to be more confident, less timid (because this kid had talent and he wasn't going to let her fear and insecurities run every aspect of her life).

The laughter that never ceased, the teasing and encouraging remarks. The shouts and hollers and cheers that echoed in the breaks of the music.

When Buster imagined the singing contest, it was to save his theater, to bring back the lost sounds he yearned to hear again. But he got something much more, a family of oddballs who shouldn't have mixed so well together but they did.

There were new sounds that made up the Moon Theater. And as far as Buster was concerned, they were much better.


End file.
